The Blooming of Spring
by The Feisty Rogue
Summary: Grindelwald has escaped, and it brings back a slew of bad memories for Graves.


Assignment #4

Potions Task 2: Write about someone being forced to relive or remember a past trauma.

Extra prompt: "If flowers can teach themselves to bloom after winter passes, so can you,"

Roald Dahl Event

Room 202 Salt and peppermints - Write about Percival Graves.

Showtime

Act 2.23 Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story: (dialogue) "It's only a matter of time."

Crystals and Gemstones Club

Amazonite – write about someone who is exceptionally kind

Student Council

Staircase 6 (medium) Task: write a fic that takes place during spring

Stair Prompts:

(Colour) Burgundy

The Blooming of Spring

* * *

Percival paced back and forth in their lounge, wearing down the tread of their burgundy rug, coat billowing out behind him. Every so often he would glare at the door, and his grip on his wand would tighten. He would run a hand through his hair, mussing it up, before huffing and tugging at his shirtsleeves, restless and on edge.

Newt was curled up in his favourite armchair, and the only sign of his anxiety the way that he rubbed his hands together. He eyed Percival, silently comparing him to caged panther, one that was prepared to viciously strike out at the first sign of aggression.

"Darling," he began, his voice low and calm.

"It was only a matter of time before he escaped!" Percival growled, and slashed his wand through the air. A pulse of magic surged from it, checking every inch of the property covered beneath their extensive wards, before returning the results to the caster. The wand tip glowed green for the third time that morning, and despite the fact that Newt didn't think Grindelwald would be coming anywhere near them, he relaxed.

"Darling," Newt repeated, suppressing his worry, and extending his hand. "Come here."

Percival, glancing once again at the door, drew reluctantly closer. He was tense, wary, very much a predator on alert. Newt laced their fingers together, and tugged gently. Percival folded to his knees, despite the mahogany wooden floorboards, and bowed over their clasped hands with a sigh. Newt stroked a hand over his shoulders and cupped the back of his neck, as Percival looked up at him with wild, desperate eyes.

"It's alright. You're here, you're safe with me."

Percival shuddered, but his body relaxed. Newt gently wiped away a tear that had escaped, and joined Percival on the floor, wrapping his arms around him. Physical contact was reassuring for all manner of creatures, humans included. Percival buried his head in the crook of Newt's shoulder, and Newt continued to rub his back.

"I can't do this. He'll haunt me – forever," Percival said, voice muffled. "He's there, in my mind, all the time."

"If flowers can teach themselves to bloom after winter passes, so can you," Newt whispered, and held him until Percival's anxious shaking had subsided. He smothered the flames of his ever growing hatred of Grindelwald, and focused on the present. "You can do anything, Percival, anything you want. I truly believe that."

Percival finally returned the hug, and they knelt there, tangled together. Newt smiled at nothing in particular, and enjoyed the feeling of Percival's heart beating beside his own, their breathing in perfect synchronicity.

Finally, with a groan, Percival drew them both off the floor. He was calm now, no longer buzzing with energy, his magic settled like a cloak about his shoulders, instead of filling the room.

"Thank you," he said quietly. He was still holding his wand, but it dangled loosely from two fingers. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Newt blushed, and glanced away. "Oh, err," he said, stuttering for the first time that evening. "Would you like to go look at some flowers?"

Percival burst into delighted laughter, and Newt could feel his flush creeping down his neck and up his ears. Of all the things to say – of all the times to say them – he had to say that, and make a fool of himself.

"I just thought – flowers blooming – and Central Park in Spring," Newt said desperately trying to explain. "I thought it might cheer you up."

Percival drew him onto their sofa, and Newt fitted himself close, flustered and yet amused by his own awkwardness.

"I'm not sure I could go today," Percival said carefully, but his eyes were warm, no longer filled with fear. "But I would love to go look at the flowers in Central Park with you, perhaps tomorrow?"

Newt smiled shyly. "We'll make it a date," he said, and kissed Percival's jaw softly. Percival hummed his agreement, and turned so that their lips met.

"I've an idea," Percival whispered. He cupped his hands together, wand on lap, and blew on them. As his fingers unfurled, a small sprout grew from between them until it flowered into a red tulip. He tucked it into Newt's button hole.

"We don't even have to leave to see the flowers blooming."

Newt stroked his thumb along the lip of the tulip, soft and velvety. He turned to Percival, overwhelmed with affection, and brushed a kiss over his knuckles, utterly content with his place in life. There was nowhere he'd rather be.

* * *

Word count: 767


End file.
